


Next Time, Skip The Lipstick

by GiraffePanda2



Series: A Modern Enola [2]
Category: Enola Holmes (2020), Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Enola is fanon fight me, Enola is like early 20s in this, F/F, Femslash, One Shot, Undercover, dont tell me that enola didnt have victorian saphic love for cecily, im not british dont drag me for using poor british slang im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiraffePanda2/pseuds/GiraffePanda2
Summary: (Enola Holmes - Book Series x Sherlock - BBC TV Show Crossover)Undercover, Enola stumbles around Cecily as the two work together to complete their portion of a case with Sherlock.
Relationships: Cecily Alistair/Enola Holmes
Series: A Modern Enola [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Next Time, Skip The Lipstick

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in modern times (well, pre-pandemic). Enola and Cecily are both early 20s. Since she turned 18, Enola is able to walk around freely and doesn't have to run from her brothers any longer.  
> If you haven't read the books and just saw the movie, welcome! I've been a big fan of the books for the longest time, and since the movie's in full swing, what better time to start up writing for this fandom again?

I was no stranger to playing dress-up.

I had spent years creating different personas and perfecting every detail of them—each persona I played was a facet of myself: Ivy, Dr. Ragostin—all apart of Enola. I adored disguises.

I adored disguises, but I am rather uncomfortable with this one.

“Don’t you agree?” asked the young, handsome man to my right. His words brought me back from my musings to reality—this awfully pretentious party. I smiled at him, fluttered my eyes three times, and said softly, “Absolutely.”

He grinned and continued to talk about God knows what. I scanned the room for Cecily. She insisted we get ready separately.

After all, Cecily Alistair did not know Viola Everseau.

“Viola, love,” said my dull companion, “I was wondering—” there! A flash of the dark, silky hair I knew well. Cecily had just appeared at the top of the staircase—

Her dark hair curled in gentle waves. Her dress was a dark red, complimenting her skin tone perfectly; it flared from her waist and brushed her ankles as she walked.

Our eyes met, she smiled, and I couldn’t breathe.

I vaguely recalled the boy by my side calling out my name as I left his side and made my way across the floor to Cecily. Of course, Cecily had to show up in red to a black and white attire event.

I was not the only one to notice her entrance. I heard people whisper as I got closer and a couple of men with nice hair approached Cecily.

Cecily, who hadn’t stopped looking at me.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of that smile. Her lipstick was the same color as the dress.

“Hello.” She said, perfect in every way. “How do you do? I’m Cecily Alistair.” Her hand brushed back her hair, then briefly touched her necklace, before making it’s way back down to her side—

The necklace.

My necklace.

The necklace I gave her so long ago, as a sign of my… affection.

“You’re wearing it.” I said hoarsely. The golden pendant sat inches away from her cleavage, which was presently quite clearly thanks to the sweetheart neckline of her dress.

My mouth went dry.

Cecily tilted her head, “I don’t believe we’ve met before. What’s your name?”

Distracted by her everything, I stupidly said, “Enola.” Her eyes widened a fraction, “I mean, Viola! I’m… Viola.”

That perfect smile widened.

* * *

It was several years ago, back when we were still teenagers and when I was still running and hiding from my brothers. Cecily was my second official case, I (well, Dr. Ragostin had, not I, Enola Holmes) had been contracted to find the young and fair Cecily Alistair by her very distressed mother.

There’s probably something to be said about both Tewkesbury and Cecily starting off as cases and then becoming, er, well… that’s another story for another time.

Anyways, I took the case and found her. There was a bit of a tussle with her kidnapper—nothing my blade couldn’t handle—but in the heat of the battle, the tosser managed to get his hands around my throat. Cecily saved me, at the cost of a concussion. Luckily, we happened to be close enough to 221B Baker Street, and Dr. John Watson took good care of her.

At least, he was taking good care of her before I had to run off—the whole running away from my brothers so I’m not forced to go to boarding school thing was still, well, a thing.

The next time I saw Cecily was at her short-lived wedding. We barely got the chance to see each other before she needed to make her escape. If I remember correctly, before I sent her away, I handed her a small, gold necklace, with a rose pendant. I had gotten it from a small shop—it had been right after I accepted her case (again). It caught my eye in the window.

A rose of any sort, always means affection. Even though back then, we had not spent a large amount of time together, I did hold a small amount of affection for Cecily. There had been something about her that was… alluring.

* * *

“Red’s a terrible color. It’s loud, attention-seeking, like it screams ‘look at me, look at me!’ and what person wants everyone to be staring at them? A ridiculous color. I’ve never seen a single person look good in red, either. Never.” I looked up at the man beside me, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“What do you like to do for fun.”

“Oh.” I glanced down at the glass in my hand. “I like to… quilt.”

And at that, the man made up some poor excuse and quickly ran away from me. I sighed, leaned against the bar, and finished off the last of my champagne.

“You look like you need something stronger.”

Cecily was chatting away with another man with stupidly good hair. He leaned in and she smiled, her hand coming up to fiddle with her necklace.

I turned around to the bartender, “What would you recommend?”

She smiled. She wasn’t wearing lipstick. “Well,” She leaned in just the smallest amount, “Based on what I’ve seen tonight, I’d like to make you an bramble.”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Just while you’ve been at my bar.” A pause. “Would you like that drink?”

I do not glance over at Cecily before answering, “Yes.”

* * *

My brain automatically tried to rearrange the numbers on the napkin. I was used to deciphering messages, but this message didn’t need to be deciphered or rearranged or anything.

I glanced up from spot at corner to the bar. The bartender from before—Brittany—winked at me. I quickly looked elsewhere.

“You’re alone for half an hour and already you found a cipher?” Cecily appeared quite suddenly, startling me, allowing her to grab the napkin in my hand.

“That’s not, it’s, uh—”

Cecily raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well, _Viola_. I think I solved this one—it’s a phone number.”

I could feel my face turning pink and I swiped the napkin from her. “Thank you for the sound deduction, Cecily.”

She studied me, “Who’s it from?”

“My mother. She wanted me to have it for easy access.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine, don’t tell me.”

Was it just me, or did she seem the tiniest bit upset? No, I was imagining that. Cecily was a natural at controlling her face. She wouldn’t allow something like that to slip by. Unless, she wanted me to notice that she was upset, but then she would know that I know that she did that on purpose and perhaps I should not have had that third drink the bartender poured me.

“Did you spot Sherlock?” Cecily asked.

“Of course,” I managed to get out, “And Dr. Watson.”

“Why don’t you ever call him John?”

I paused, stumped. “I don’t actually know.”

“Hmmmm,” Cecily leaned against the wall beside me and sipped from her champagne. “Want to sneak away to somewhere a little more private?”

If it hadn’t been for the third drink, I’m sure I could have better controlled my reaction to the change of tone. She had pitched her voice slightly lower, it was husky. She had to know. Surely it was obvious. It was obvious enough to the bartender.

Fine. Very well. I could do this too, surely.

I offered Cecily my arm and my most charming smile, “Lead the way.”

* * *

The first case Cecily and I worked together on was Paris. There was some stolen jewelry, a mysterious professor, and let’s just say, we got a very good view from the Eiffel Tower.

Being here, at this place, wearing these disguises, was just another case. When Cecily asked if I had wanted to sneak away, I knew it was because of that.

But as she picked the lock for the office, some strands of hair falling in her face, part of me wished it wasn’t just for the case.

* * *

“Enola!” Cecily said, grabbing my wrist and halting our progress. “Calm down. We got what we needed. If we show up in the ballroom all out of breath, we will immediately draw attention to ourselves—”

“Oh, you’ve done that already!” That was too close. We nearly got spotted by security.

“What do you mean?” Cecily asked, taken back.

“You know.” I said, gesturing at her. My heart was beating way too fast. I swallowed thickly. “The way… you’re dressed.” God she’s so, so—

“And what about the way I’m dressed?”

“Everyone was staring at you.”

“You sound jealous.”

I couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t her. That wasn’t Cecily.

“I am jealous!” I blurted out.

“Why?”

“Because…” Do I dare? Cecily looked like stone. I hate it when she does that. I want her to drop that mask. “…I don’t like it when all those people look at you.”

Cecily was still stone… until her eyes flicked downwards and the moment it hit me that she was looking at my mouth I leaned in and kissed her.

It was singular.

Cecily’s hands reached up to my neck and she tugged me closer. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed and we kissed and we kissed and we kissed. Just as I dared to put my hands on her hips, a hand came down on my shoulder, causing us to jump back from each other.

Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective and my brother, stood towering above us. “Do you have it?” He asked.

I was not able to produce words. Cecily did not find herself under the same ailment. “Yes.” She reached into her pockets and pulled out the thumb drive. She dropped it into Sherlock’s hand. “They shouldn’t notice it missing till morning.”

“Good.” My brother said, pocketing the item. He glanced at me. I could only imagine how red my face was turning.

Sherlock reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. He gestured towards his mouth. “You’ll both want to clean up before heading out there.” He turned towards Cecily, “Next time, Ms. Alistair, skip the lipstick.”

Cecily and I looked at each other, and realized our mouths were smeared with red.

Sherlock turned around, “Be prepared to leave soon, I’ll have John call a cab.” And with that, the detective walked away.

Leaving Cecily and I alone.

Shit.


End file.
